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ERICAN  HISTORICAL  PLAYS  No.   1 

••^^^••^.  in ••••••••••••••u •  ••!•• •Mm»<~,mtHmim—~m~*^^^*m~^——^——~~—mm—~—m^^—~m—m—m—~ 

Polly  of  Pogue's  Run— a 

\0ne  Act  Play  of  the  Civil 
rar  by  William  0.  Bates. 


\w 


York     FRANK     SHAY       Publisher 


Polly  of  Pogue's  Run 

A  Play  in  One  Act 
By  William  O.  Bates. 


However  marr'd,  of  more  than  twice  her  years, 
And  bruised  and  bronzed,  she  lifted  up  her  eyes 
And  loved  him  with  that  love  which  was  her  doom. 

"Lancelot    and    Elaine. 


NEW  YORK 
FRANK. SHAY,  Publisher 


POLLY  OF  POGUE'S  RUN 

was  first  presented  by  THE  LITTLE 
THEATRE  SOCIETY  OF  INDIANA 

at  the  Masonic  Temple,  Indianapolis, 
on  December  7th,  1916,  with  the  following 
cast: 

Governor  Morton Arthur  J.  Beriault 

Polly  Trowbridge Clarice  Solomons 

Aunt  Abby  Trowbridge Mrs.  Carl  Lieber 

Judge  Wheelan Clarence  Kinney 

Berry  Sulgrove Carl  Goe 

Col.  John  Coburn St.  Clair  Jones 

Sergeant  Marcus  Aurelius  Whips Howard  B.  Hill 

Private  Drom . .  . .  Oliver  Fuller 


COPYRIGHT  1917,  BY  FRANK  SHAY 


- 
r 


The  amateur  and  professional  stage  rights  on  this  play  are  reserved 
by  the  author.  Application  to  produce  this  play  should  be  made  to 
the  author,  care  of  the  publisher. 


Polly  of  Pogue's  Run 


The  scene  shows  the  private  office  of  Governor  Morton  in  the 
Indiana  State  House,  an  austere  business-like  room,  with  a  large  table 
desk  at  the  rear  center  on  which  are  law  books,  writing  materials 
and  a  call-bell,  a  swivel  chair  behind  it.  The  wide  curtained  entrance 
is  at  the  rear  left.  On  the  rear  wall  are  a  map  of  Indiana  and  a  por 
trait  of  President  Lincoln.  There  are  cases  holding  law  books  at  the 
right  and  massive  chairs  right  and  left  of  the  desk. 

The  time  is  late  afternoon  on  May  20,  1863. 
******** 

Enter  Secretary  SULGROVE  and  Judge  WHEELAN.  SULGROVE  has  a 
handful  of  documents  and  letters  which  he  arranges  and  annotates 
on  MORTON'S  desk  as  he  talks.  He  is  a  short,  stout  man  of  middle 
age,  with  a  smooth,  red  face  and  an  expression  of  whimsical  discontent 
and  suspicion.  The  Judge  is  elderly,  a  broadclothed  exponent  of  suave 
deprecation. 

SULGROVE.  Take  a  chair,  Judge.  Governor'll  be  in  soon — just  out 
trying  to  find  jail-room  for  a  few  more  Democratic  statesmen. 

WHEELAN.     [Seated.]     Yes,  that's  why  I  want  to  see  him. 

SULGROVE.     Hope  you're  not  on  his  index  expurgatorius  ? 

WHEELAN.  Tut,  tut,  Berry!  Only  some  young  friends  of  mine — 
over-enthusiastic,  you  understand — maybe  a  little  over-stimulated. 

SULGROVE.  Yes,  there  ought  to  be  a  law  to  keep  this  copper-dis 
tilled  stuff  out  of  copperheads. 

WHEELAN.  There  you  go  again!  Law!  You  invent  your  law  to 
suit  the  occasion — just  like  Governor  Morton.  Look  at  today's  events! 
Deplorable,  deplorable !  A  mass-meeting  of  the  Democrats  of  the  State 
is  called  to  protest  against  this  wicked  war.  Ten  or  twelve  thousand 
peaceable  citizens  from  all  over  Indiana  assemble  to  make  solemn 
and  righteous  remonstrance  and  to  listen  to  addresses  by  men  of 
character  and  renown. 

SULGROVE.     [In  irony.]     Hear,  hear! 

WHEELAN.  [Rising  and  continuing  oratorically.]  What  happens? 
Vallandingham  is  arrested  the  moment  he  enters  the  State.  Seymour 
and  Pendleton  are  intimidated  into  silence.  Troops  are  posted  all 
over  the  city  and  [pointing]  see  that  cannon  out  there  trained  on  the 
speakers'  stand!  Senator  Hendricks  is  grossly  insulted  when  he  tries 
to  speak  and  the  meeting  is  broken  up  by  a  riotous  mob.  Law,  law, 
law!  What  "law"  justifies  such  ruthless  proceedings? 


M203810 


4  AMERICAN    HISTORICAL  PLAYS 

SULGROVE.  The  law  of  necessity,  Judge.  About  half  of  your 
"peaceable  and  righteous"  Knights  of  the  Golden  Circle  came  here  with 
big  navy  revolvers  under  their  coat-tails  to  seize  the  Government  stores, 
liberate  the  Rebel  prisoners  and  start  your  Northwestern  Confederacy 
with  Indiana  as  the  nest  egg. 

WHEELAN.  "Knights  of  the  Golden  Circle"  forsooth !  You  remind 
me  of  the  "knight"  who  charged  the  windmills.  [Resumes  his  chair.] 

SULGROVE.  And  your  Northwestern  Confederacy  reminds  me  of  the 
kingdom  Sancho  Panza  started  in  to  govern  when  it  had  no  existence. 

WHEELAN.  If  it  ever  should  exist,  let  us  hope  its  governors  do 
not  carry  the  money  around  in  their  breeches  pockets  and  spend 
it  at  their  own  sweet  wills. 

SULGROVE.  If  your  Butternut  legislators  had  done  their  duty 
Morton  wouldn't  have  had  to  send  them  home  and  borrow  money  on 
his  own  credit  to  run  the  State. 

WHEELAN.  "The  State — I  am  the  State,"  said  Louis  Fourteenth. 
And  so  said  Caesar,  so  Cromwell,  and  so  have  said  all  usurpers ! 

SULGROVE.  Shucks,  they  were  none  of  them  ace-high  to  Morton 
in  the  game  of  getting  things  done!  [Coming  down  stage,  transformed 
by  his  enthusiasm.]  Which  one  of  them  ever  organized,  equipped  and 
sent  into  the  field  fourteen  thousand  men  in  four  days,  as  he  did? 
He  has  over  sixty  thousand  Indiana  troops  at  the  front  this  minute — 
and  every  man  of  them  looks  to  him  for  everything  he  needs,  from 
an  overcoat  to  smoking  tobacco.  What  other  "usurper"  ever  visited 
the  battlefield  to  close  the  dying  eyes  of  his  soldiers  and  then  rushed 
home  to  feed,  warm  and  comfort  their  fatherless  children?  Judge, 
you  do  make  me  so  d d  sick ! 

Governor  MORTON  has  entered  in  time  to  hear  the  conclusion  of 
this  panegyric.  He  is  forty  years  old,  of  massive  frame,  with  a  face 
the  pallor  of  which  is  accented  by  flashing  dark  eyes.  It  expresses  con 
trolled  power  and  potential  ferocity.  His  voice  is  strong,  full  and 
deep.  His  movements  are  alert  and  rapid,  his  presence  radiating* 
energy,  decision  and  what  the  phrenologists  call  "high  destructiveness/' 
He  is  rather  carelessly  dressed  in  broadcloth  with  a  black  string  tie. 
He  is  in  high  good  humor. 

MORTON.     [In  pseudo-reproof.]     Berry,  Berry,  Berry! 

SULGROVE.     [Retreating,  disgusted  at  being  caught.]     Oh,  hell! 

MORTON.  [Shaking  hands  with  WHEELAN.]  Glad  to  see  you,  Judge. 
What's  on  your  mind? 

WHEELAN.  Nothing  much,  only  Col.  Coburn's  men  have  arrested 
some  young  friends  of  mine  for  wearing  pins  they  didn't  like. 

MORTON.  [Pushing  back  the  lapel  of  WHEELAN'S  coat  and  disclos 
ing  a  butternut  pin  on  his  waistcoat.]  Such  a  popular  decoration,  too ! 


POLLY  OF  TOQUE'S  RUN  5 

WHEELAN.  [Confused.]  Didn't  know  I  had  that  thing  on.  My 
daughter  must  have  put  it  there  this  morning. 

MORTON.  Sit  down,  until  I  see  what's  on  my  desk !  [He  seats 
himself  behind  his  desk  and  takes  up,  with  SULGROVE  at  his  elbow,  the 
papers  laid  out  for  his  inspection.]  These  commissions  ready?  [ SUL 
GROVE  nods  and  MORTON  rapidly  affixes  his  signature.]  Tell  General 
Hascall  he  can  send  part  of  his  troops  back  to  Camp  Carrington  for 
the  night,  but — [He  concludes  the  order  sotto  voce.]  [Reading  the 
caption  of  a  document.}  "Expenditures  needed  to  pay  the  Indiana 
Legion  and  raise  new  regiments."  Give  it  to  Coburn !  I'll  find  the 
money — somehow.  Indiana  dollars  never  yet  failed  to  back  up  Indiana 
soldiers,  and,  please  God,  they  never  shall.  [Takes  up  another  docu 
ment.}  "Respectful  complaint  from  the  Confederate  prisoners  at  Camp 
Morton."  Don't  like  their  coffee,  eh?  [Reading.}  "A  wild  goose 
could  take  a  grain  of  coffee  in  its  bill,  swim  down  the  Mississippi  from 
St.  Paul  and  make  a  better  beverage  all  the  way  to  the  Gulf  than  we 
get."  Write  this  smart  fellow  that  the  only  coffee  a  good  many  fam 
ilies  of  Indiana  soldiers  get  is  what  they  make  out  of  parched  rye  and 
corn !  But  send  Col.  Owen  a  note,  with  this  complaint,  to  say  I  want 
these  men  well  fed.  Who's  been  here  to  see  me? 

SULGROVE.     Good  many  visitors,  mostly  from  out  of  town. 

MORTON.     Anybody  on  business  ? 

SULGROVE.  No — unless  it  was  a  girl  who  came  in  just  after  the 
crowd  broke  down  the  fence.  She  was  very  much  excited,  but  wouldn't 
give  me  her  name  or  tell  me  what  she  wanted. 

MORTON.     Can  you  get  these  commissions  off  right  away? 

SULGROVE.  Pronto-pronto !  [He  gathers  up  the  documents  and 
rushes  out.} 

MORTON.  Now,  Judge,  about  your  young  rascals,  do  you  mean 
to  tell  me  Col.  Coburn's  men  arrested  them  solely  for  wearing  butter 
nut  pins? 

WHEELAN.  [Embarrassed,}  Well,  you  see,  Governor — the  fact 
is — I  was  not  present  personally — the  affair  happened  in  a  drinking 
place. 

MORTON.    Oh,  I  see!    Were  they  cheering  for  Jeff  Davis? 

WHEELAN.  [Warmly.}  Certainly  not,  Governor.  These  boys  are 
as  loyal  as  you  or  I,  but  they  are  Peace  Democrats  and  maybe  they  did 
get  a  little  noisy. 

MORTON.     All  right.     Give  me  their  names  and  I'll  look  into  it. 

WHEELAN.  [Handing  MORTON  a  paper.}  Col.  Coburn  had  them 
locked  up  at  your  post-office  bastile. 

MORTON.  [Dropping  his  air  of  friendly  familiarity  and  speaking 
with  stern  directness.]  Judge  Wheelan,  I  am  not  disposed  to  deal 


6  AMERICAN    HISTORICAL   PLAYS 

harshly  with  hot-headed  boys.  But  I  want  to  warn  you  that  when 
the  responsible  heads  of  your  party  lend  support  to  such  treasonable 
secret  societies  as  the  Knights  of  the  Golden  Circle,  and  make  speeches 
giving  aid  and  comfort  to  the  Rebels,  I  shall  hold  them  accountable  as 
enemies  of  the  Union. 

WHEELAN.  [Rising  in  excited  dissent.]  But,  Governor  Morton, 
I  deny  in  toto  that  any  responsible  Democratic  leaders  have  been  guilty 
of  treasonable  speeches.  As  for  the  "Knights  of  the  Golden  Circle," 
I  tell  you  now,  as  I  have  before,  /  know  of  no  such  body. 

MORTON.     You  are  quite  sure  of  that,  Judge? 

WHEELAN.  Absolutely!  If  there  were  any  such  organization  no 
one  would  insult  me  by  asking  me  to  belong  to  it,  but  I  could  not 
help  knowing  that  it  existed.  [Sits  down  again.] 

MORTON.  Very  well,  then.  [Taps  call  bell;  SULGROVE  comes  to 
door.]  Berry,  bring  me  the  stenographic  report  of  that  speech  made 
before  a  castle  of  the  Knights  of  the  Golden  Circle  here  in  Indianapolis 
last  night.  [ SULGROVE  brings  document.  WHEELAN  shows  alarm.] 
The  speaker,  after  denouncing  "this  infernal  abolition  war,"  goes  on 
to  pledge  his  brother  Knights  to  see  to  it  that  "not  another  man,  not 
another  dollar,  shall  be  used  for  such  a  wicked,  inhuman,  unholy 
purpose." 

WHEELAN.    But,  Governor,  I  never 

MORTON.    Wait,  Judge — hear  what  he  says  about  me!     I  am  the 

"modern    Caligula   who   sends   his   willing  satraps,   with   hoof   of   fire 

and  sword  of  flame,  to  scourge  the  land,  while  the  Angel  of  Death 
spreads  his  wings  on  the  blast." 

WHEELAN.     [Gasping.]     My  dear  old  friend,  you  can't  think  I — 

MORTON.  Listen  to  this !  "Confusion  and  disorder  darken  the 
sky;  the  very  earth  is  laden  with  the  sorrows  of  our  people.  But, 
brethren  of  the  Inner  Court,  at  this  supreme  moment,  on  the  eve  of 
the  day  when,  with  God's  help,  we  shall  break  the  galling  chains  by 
which  our  beloved  State  is  held  in  thrall  by  this  remorseless  tyrant, 
let  us  swear  that,  whatever  fate  tomorrow's  rising  sun  shall  usher  in 
for  each  of  us,  though  it  shines  upon  rivers  running  red  and  thick 
with  blood,  its  setting  shall  see  Indiana  free  and  her  despot  dead  as 
Caesar  died." 

[Judge  WHEELAN,  who  has  listened  to  the  reading  with  growing 
manifestations  of  panic  and  collapse,  now  rises  feebly  to  his  feet  and 
stretches  out  his  hands  in  mute  appeal  for  mercy  to  MORTON,  who 
regards  him  with  stony  implacability.  He  then  raises  his  arms  above 
his  head  as  if  to  shelter  it  from  the  Governor's  wrath  and  totters  out 
of  the  room.  MORTON  taps  call-bell;  SULGROVE  appears  at  the  door.] 

MORTON.     Have  the  Judge  watched  !     Anybody  out  there  ? 


POLLY  OF  POGUE  S  RUN  7 

SULGROVE.  Col.  Coburn  to  report,  with  some  prisoners.  One  of 
them  is  the  girl  who  called  this  afternoon. 

MORTON.     Send  Coburn  in  ! 

[ SULGROVE  disappears  and  a  'moment  later  Col.  JOHN  COBURN  en 
ters.  He  is  the  ideal  citizen-soldier  and  wears  the  uniform  of  his  rank.'] 

COBURN.     {Saluting.}     Governor! 

MORTON.    Well,  Colonel,  "all  quiet  along  the  Potomac?" 

COBURN.  Practically.  Still  some  loud  talk,  but  our  visitors  are 
hurrying  to  get  out  of  town. 

MORTON.     Many  arrests? 

COBURN.     Twenty-seven. 

MORTON.  [Handing  COBURN  the  WHEELAN  memorandum.}  Keep 
these  young  blades  overnight  and  let  them  go  in  the  morning. 

COBURN.  We  had  to  give  the  crowd  a  lesson  at  the  Union  Depot. 
There  was  a  lot  of  firing  from  the  car  windows  so  we  stopped  them 
with  a  gun  on  the  track,  and  sent  a  policeman  and  two  or  three 
soldiers  through  the  cars  to  take  away  their  firearms. 

MORTON.    Any  resistance? 

COBURN.  Not  from  the  men.  They  couldn't  have  been  worse 
scared  if  we'd  had  the  whole  United  States  army  and  a  battery  of  field 
pieces  ready  to  blow  them  into  Pogue's  Run.  We  got  nearly  a  wagon- 
load  of  revolvers  and  knives — besides  a  lot  they  threw  into  Pogue's  Run. 

MORTON.  So  good  of  them  to  use  Pogue's  Run  for  that  instead  of 
making  it  "run  red  and  thick  with  blood !" 

COBURN.  Some  of  the  women  were  very  abusive  when  they  had 
to  surrender  the  weapons  the  men  had  given  them  to  hide.  We  found 
seven  on  one  woman,  and  another,  from  Wayne  County,  who  says  she 
knows  you  personally,  refused  to  give  up  those  she  had  to  anybody  but 
you.  I  didn't  like  to  use  violence 

MORTON.  No,  violence  would  have  been  quite  out  of  place  at  "the 
Battle  of  Pogue's  Run." 

COBURN.  So  I  brought  her  along — especially  as  I  had  to  arrest  her 
niece — a  vixen  of  a  girl  who  tried  to  stir  up  the  men  to  resist  us.  Be 
tween  the  scare  we  gave  them  and  her  tongue-lashing,  they  were  a 
pretty  sheepish  lot  when  the  train  finally  got  away. 

MORTON.     Both  these  women  here? 

COBURN.     Yes,  Governor. 

MORTON.     Bring  them  in! 

[Col.  COBURN  salutes  and  goes  out  and  a  moment  later  SULGROVE 
re-enters  and  goes  to  MORTON.] 

SULGROVE.     [Low.]     Look  out  for  that  girl ! 

[MORTON    registers    impatience.       Coburn    re-enters    in    advance 


8  AMERICAN    HISTORICAL  PLAYS 

of  Sergt.  WHIPS,  marching  before  AUNT  ABBY  TROWBRIDGE  and 
PRIVATE  DROM  bringing  POLLY.  Soldiers  very  precise  in  their  move 
ments  and  salute  the  Governor  simultaneously  after  taking  positions. 
POLLY  and  DROM  cross  to  right;  AUNT  ABBY  and  WHIPS  left.  AUNT 
ABBY  is  a  tall,  middle-aged  slab  of  a  woman,  dressed  in  homely  country 
fashion — Paisley  shawl,  gingham  sun-bonnet,  hoop-skirt  of  the  period, 
etc.  She  carries  an  old-fashioned  carpet-bag  of  distinctly  audible 
pattern.  POLLY  is  a  handsome  girl  of  about  seventeen,  in  neat,  semi- 
Quaker  dress.  She  regards  MORTON  with  biasing  wrath  and  defiance. 
The  two  soldiers  are  in  uniform  and  carry  rifles  with  fixed  bayonets.] 

AUNT  ABBY.  [Setting  down  her  carpet-bag.]  Well,  Perry  Morton, 
I  guessed  y'd  be  changed  some,  but  I  wouldn't  hardly  a-knowed  ye. 
[Starting  to  shake  hands.]  How's  all?  [She  is  restrained  by  WHIPS 
upon  whom  she  turns  in  reproof.]  See  here,  Marcus  Aurelius  Whips, 
I'm  'quainted  with  Perry  Morton  and  all  his  folks  long  before  you're 
bawn.  An'  I  knowed  your  tribe,  too,  as  wuthless  a  lot  as  ever  I  see. 

WHIPS.  [With  an  exaggerated  military  salute  to  MORTON.]  Ma 
dam,  madam,  restrain  yourself !  You  are  in  the  presence  of  the  Gov 
ernor  of  Indiana. 

AUNT  ABBY.  Don't  "madam"  me,  you  mis'abl'  whippersnapper ! 
Your  daddy  ust  to  drive  oxen  for  my  John — an'  him  too  blamed  slow 
to  keep  up  with  'em. 

WHIPS.  [Again  saluting  MORTON.]  My  father  is  a  good  Union 
man,  Mrs.  Abigail  Trowbridge,  and  he  never  worked  a  day  for  your 
husband  after  he  found  out  he  was  a  Butternut. 

COBURN.     Silence,  Sergeant  Whips! 

AUNT  ABBY.  No,  an'  what's  more,  he  never  done  a  good  day's  work 
for  nobody. 

MORTON.    Aunt  Abby,  I'm  sorry  to  see  you  brought  here  like  this. 

AUNT  ABBY.  Don't  you  worry  none  about  that,  Perry!  They 
couldn't-a  fetched  us  if  we  hadn't-a  wanted  to  come.  Land  sakes  alive, 
I've  knowed  this  Marcus  Aurelius  feller  [Indicating  WHIPS]  ever  sence 
he  was  knee-high  to  a  grasshopper.  He's  no  soldier. 

WHIPS.  [Starting  forward  indignantly.]  When  the  Stars  and 
Stripes  was  fired  on  at  Fort  Sumter 

MORTON.  Never  mind  about  the  Stars  and  Stripes  now,  Sergeant! 
How  did  you  come  to  be  mixed  up  with  these  dangerous  conspirators, 
Aunt  Abby? 

AUNT  ABBY.  "Dangerous"  nothin' !  After  all  their  drillin'  an'  ca- 
vortin'  'round  at  night,  an'  comin'  up  here  loaded  down  with  big  pistols 
an'  butcher-knives,  they're  like  a  flock  o'  sheep — jist  brave  enough  to 
git  the  dogs  started  after  'em — an'  sich  dogs!  [This  last  with  a  con 
temptuous  glare  at  WHIPS  which  he  resents  in  kind.]  The  minute  your 


POLLY  OF  POGUE  S  RUN  9 

fellers  held  up  the  train  them  Butternuts  come  a-runnin'  to  ast  Aunt 
Abby  to  keep  their  weepins  'till  the  trouble  blowed  over.  I  'low  I  got 
most  of  the  Wayne  County  hardware — 'cept  what  they  throwed  into 
the  crick — Pogue's  Run  I  heered  'em  call  it.  I've  brought  'em  here  to 
you.  They're  liabler  to  shoot  theirselves  than  any  of  you  Lincplnites. 
[She  proceeds  to  unload  from  her  carpet-bag  and  various  portions  of 
her  dress  a  variety  of  antiquated  revolvers,  "pepper-boxes','  horse- 
pistols  and  knives,  heaping  them  upon  MORTON'S  desk.]  That's  Harve 
Piper's  hoss-pistol,  the  old  fool!  This'ne  b'longed  to  Si  Smullen's 
granddaddy — hain't  been  shot  off  sence  the  year  One.  [Pulling  a  huge 
butcher-knife  from  the  back  of  her  neck.]  This  thing's  been  a-stickin' 
me  long  'nough.  [Shamefacedly  removing  one  or  two  others  from  her 
stockings.]  Don't  you-all  look,  now !  An',  goodness  sakes  alive,  here's 
my  butcher-knife!  I  thought  John  had  more  sense.  [She  hastily  claps 
it  back  into  her  bag.]  You  uster  be  fond  of  my  gooseberry  pie  an'  lye 
hominy,  Perry.  [Depositing  the  remains  of  her  lunch  beside  the  Pile  of 
weapons.]  Here's  some  I  had  left  over  from  dinner — little  mite  squshed 
exploringly.]  I  guess  that's  all  [turning  to  POLLY],  'less  Polly  got 
up  by  these  shootin'-irons,  but  you're  welcome  to  it.  [Feeling  of  herself 
some  of  'em? 

MORTON.     Polly,  did  you  bring  any  weapons  ? 

POLLY.  Only  this !  [She  snatches  a  pistol  from  her  bosom  and 
levels  it  at  MORTON'S  head.] 

COBURN.     Stop  her ! 

DROM.  Oh,  you  will,  will  you — you  blamed  little  Butternut !  Leggo 
that  pistol,  or  I'll  twist  your  arm  off. 

[Both  soldiers  spring  at  POLLY  and,  after  a  violent  struggle, 
disarm  her,  placing  her  pistol  with  the  others  on  MORTON'S  desk.] 

AUNT  ABBY.  Oh,  Polly  Trowbridge,  I'm  ashamed  of  you — to  try 
to  shoot  Perry  Morton,  an'  him  raised  right  in  our  county! 

MORTON.  Let  her  go,  and  leave  the  room,  all  of  you  [ POLLY 
starts  as  if  to  go]  except  Polly! 

COBURN.     But,  Governor 

MORTON.    Do  as   I   say! 

[Exeunt  COBURN,  SULGROVE,  AUNT  ABBY,  WHIPS  and  DROM.] 

MORTON.     [Coming  to  POLLY.]     Won't  you  sit  down,  Polly? 

POLLY.    No. 

MORTON.    I  wish  you  to. 

POLLY.     [Facing  MORTON  defiantly]   I  don't  care  to. 

MORTON.    Sit  down! 

POLLY.  [Fiercely]  /  will  not!  [Without  abating  her  glare  of 
resistance  and  hatred,  after  a  moment  or  two  she  slowh  sinks  into 
a  chair,  as  if  yielding  to  irresistible  compulsion.] 


10  AMERICAN  HISTORICAL  PLAYS 

MORTON.     So  you  came  to  kill  me? 

POLLY.     Yes,  I  have  sworn  to. 

MORTON.     Why  ? 

POLLY.    Because  you  are  a  tyrant  and  an  enemy  to  your  State. 

MORTON.     If  I  am  a  tyrant,  it  is  because  I  love  my  State. 

POLLY.  [Scornfully]  You  love  your  State — you  who  have  defied 
law,  legislature  and  courts  to  bring  ruin  and  chaos  upon  your  State ; 
you  who  have  forced  Indiana  to  join  hands  with  the  Yankee  Abolition 
ists  to  coerce  the  sovereign  States  of  the  South,  and  rob  them  of 
their  rights  and  property;  you  who  want  a  "Union"  of  white  women 
with  black  husbands ;  you  who  send  out  your  soldiers  and  secret 
agents  to  draft  men  into  a  cruel  war  against  their  brothers,  and 
throw  them  into  jail  or  shoot  them  down  when  they  resist;  you  who 
made  my  father  stand  up  beside  the  pump  at  Centerville  and  swear 
to  support  the  Government  he  despises  and  hates — oh,  yes,  you  love 
your  State ! 

MORTON.  Was  your  father  in  the  band  that  charged  through  the 
streets  there  shouting  for  Jeff  Davis? 

POLLY.     Yes,  he  was,  and  I  glory  in  his  doing  it. 

MORTON.  Too  bad  they  didn't  stand  by  the  pump  before  they 
stood  by  Jeff  Davis ! 

POLLY.     It's  too  bad  my  father  ever  stood  by  you. 

MORTON.  Oh,  now  I  remember  you,  Polly !  You  used  to  sit  on 
my  knee  when  I  stopped  at  your  father's  house  while  I  was  making 
speeches  through  the  county.  You  were  about  five  years  old  then. 

POLLY.  Yes,  and  you  were  a  Democrat  then;  you  hadn't  yet 
turned  traitor  to  the  party  that  gave  you  birth  and  fame. 

MORTON.  Maybe  I  have  changed.  But  so  have  you,  Polly,  though 
you  haven't  lost  your  good  looks.  You  used  to  be  rather  fond  of  me 
ten  or  twelve  years  ago.  But  now  you  want  to  kill  me — I  think 
you  said  you  want  to  kill  me,  didn't  you,  Polly? 

POLLY.     [Faintly]  Yes,  I  do. 

MORTON.  I  think  you're  mistaken  about  that,  Polly.  I  don't 
believe  the  little  girl  who  once  put  her  arms  around  my  neck  could 
kill  me,  even  though  I  am  a  tyrant,  and  a  traitor,  and  all  the  other 
wicked  things  some  people  say. 

POLLY.      [With  desperation]    Yes — / — could! 

MORTON.  [Handing  back  her  pistol]  Well,  then,  here's  your 
chance ! 

POLLY.  [Taking  the  weapon  and  slowly  rising]  Don't  tempt 
me! 

MORTON.     [Pointing]  You  wear  a  butternut  pin. 


POLLY  OF  POGUE'S  RUN  11 

POLLY.  [Raising  the  weapon  as  if  to  fire.}  You  remind  me  of 
my  duty. 

MORTON.  The  only  pins  you  used  to  wear  were  big  brass  ones 
that  scratched  my  wrists.  [She  lowers  the  weapon.]  But  we  didn't 
have  any  brave  Knights  of  the  Golden  Circle  then  to  send  girls 
to  kill  tyrants. 

POLLY.  [Desperately  pointing  the  pistol  anew.]  Oh,  I  must — 
/  must! 

MORTON.    [After  a  pause]  Well? 

POLLY.  [Throwing  down  the  weapon,  sinking  back  into  her 
chair  and  covering  her  face  with  her  hands.]  I  could  have  done  it 
when  I  first  came  here. 

MORTON.  Perhaps  you  could  do  it  now,  if  you  were  quite  sure 
I  am  the  tyrant  you  thought  me.  I  know  I  am  not  loved — no  man  in 
power  can  be — but  I  do  wish  you  young  people  of  Indiana  to  under 
stand.  Because  you  will  be  here  long  after  I  am  gone. 

POLLY.  But  I  do  understand.  You  want  to  coerce  the  South 
and  set  the  niggers  free. 

MORTON.  Yes,  I  do  want  to  coerce  the  South,  because  the 
South  is  trying  to  destroy  the  Union.  And  I  am  willing  to  set  the 
blacks  free — because  their  owners  have  made  that  the  only  way  out. 
But  in  the  old  days  your  father  and  I  stood  together  for  letting 
slavery  alone,  if  only  its  backers  would  not  force  it  upon  the  new 
States.  Because  your  father  and  most  other  Democrats  forsook 
that  position,  I  had  to  quit  the  party.  So  they  were  the  renegades, 
not  I. 

POLLY.    But  now  you  want  nigger  equality. 

MORTON.  They  are  human  beings,  Polly,  and  it  is  everlastingly 
wrong  for  one  man  to  hold  another  as  his  slave.  But  I  don't  think 
you  are  in  any  danger  of  choosing  a  black  husband,  and  it  would 
make  me  very  sad  if  you  should. 

POLLY.  [Sobbing.]  I  don't  see  why.  You  ought  to  hate  me.  I 
tried  to  kill  you. 

MORTON.  [Coming  behind  POLLY'S  chair  and  caressing  her  bowed 
head.]  Please,  Polly,  don't  cry  about  that!  It  wasn't  the  little  girl 
I  used  to  know  who  tried  to  kill  me,  but  the  new  Charlotte  Corday  of 
the  Knights  of  the  Golden  Circle — now,  wasn't  it? 

POLLY.     [Still  sobbing.]     Y — e — s. 

MORTON.  And  these  bloodthirsty  warriors  were  going  to  set  up  a 
government  of  their  own,  just  as  soon  as  you  had  belled  the  cat — 
wasn't  that  the  plan,  Polly?  [She  nods  her  head  in  halting  assent.] 
And  it  all  depended  upon  the  aim  of  one  little  Wayne  County  girl? 


12  AMERICAN  HISTORICAL  PLAYS 

POLLY.  [Rising.']  Oh,  no,  I  wasn't  the  only  one — ten  of  us  took 
the  oath! 

MORTON.     So  I  am  still  in  danger  from  the  other  nine? 

POLLY.  Yes,  they  will  surely  kill  you ;  they  swore  to  do  it.  They 
all  know  you  by  sight  and  a  bullet  or  a  knife  will  reach  you  wherever 
you  are.  No  power  on  earth  can  save  you. 

MORTON.  [Indicating  the  weapons  on  his  desk.]  Maybe  it's  just 
as  well  Aunt  Abby  did  bring  me  these.  [Pause.]  But,  Polly? 

POLLY.     [Faintly.]     What? 

MORTON.     I've  just  thought  of  a  way  to  head  them  off. 

POLLY.     How  ? 

MORTON.  Tell  me  their  names  and  I  won't  be  at  home  when 
they  call! 

POLLY.  [Looking  up,  startled.]  No,  no,  no,  I  mustn't  betray 
their  secrets;  they'd  kill  me  if  I  did! 

MORTON.    I  hadn't  thought  of  that.    It  would  be  just  like  them. 

POLLY.  [Reciting  in  an  awe-stricken  voice."]  "Should  I  ever  divulge, 
or  cause  to  be  divulged,  any  secrets,  signs  or  pass-words  of  the 
consecrated  Temple,  I  must  meet  with  the  fearful  and  just  penalty 
of  the  traitor,  which  is  death,  death,  DEATH!" 

MORTON.  But,  you  see,  Polly,  I  already  know  most  of  the  secrets 
and  all  of  the  signs  and  pass-words  of  "the  consecrated  Temple." 
Try  me,  now!  [Illustrating.]  When  I  meet  anybody  I  suspect  of 
being  "consecrated"  I  place  the  heel  of  my  right  foot  in  the  hollow 
of  the  left,  with  my  right  hand  under  my  left  arm,  my  left  hand 
under  my  right  arm,  the  four  fingers  of  my  left  hand  over  my  right 
arm — so.  You  do  the  same.  [She  does.]  Then  I  advance  my  right 
foot  and  you  advance  yours ;  we  clasp  our  right  hands  together 
and  place  our  left  hands  on  our  right  breasts.  Then  I  say  "Nu."  Go 
on,  Polly! 

POLLY.     [Mechanically.]     "Oh." 

MORTON.  "Lac" — that's  it — "Calhoun"  spelled  backward.  Then  I 
say  "S." 

POLLY.      "L." 

MORTON.     "Give  me  liberty." 

POLLY.      "Or  give  me  death." 

MORTON.  With  a  preference  for  liberty,  of  course.  Then  we 
give  one  more  handshake  and  we  are  properly  introduced.  But 
if  one  of  us  is  in  distress  he  places  his  left  hand  on  his  right 
breast  and  raises  his  right  hand  and  arm  to  full  height  once — like 
this.  Or,  if  it's  at  night,  he  calls  out,  "oak-oun,"  three  times — "oak-oun, 
oak-oun,  oak-oun." 


POLLY  OF  POGUE'S  RUN  13 

POLLY.    [In  wonder.]    You  must  have  visited  one  of  our  "castles." 

MORTON.  No,  but  I  could.  Let's  see!  [He  knocks  on  his  desk 
three  times  with  mock  solemnity.]  Your  turn,  Polly. 

POLLY.     "Who  cometh?     Who  cometh?     Who  cometh?" 

MORTON.  [In  a  sepulchral  voice.]  "A  Man.  We  found  him  in 
the  hands  of  the  Sons  of  Despotism,  bound  in  chains  and  well-nigh 
crushed  to  death  beneath  the  iron  heel  of  the  Oppressor."  [In  his 
natural  voice.]  I'm  the  "Oppressor,"  am  I  not,  Polly?  [She  nods 
assent,  compelled  to  smile  in  spite  of  herself.]  "We  have  brought 
him  hither  and  would  fain  clothe  him  in  the  white  robes  of  Virtue 
and  place  his  feet  in  the  straight  and  narrow  path  which  leads  to 
Truth  and  Wisdom." 

POLLY.     Oh,  you  know  everything! 

MORTON.  Except  the  names  of  the  other  nine  who  have  sworn 
to  kill  me.  And  you  are  going  to  tell  me  who  they  are. 

POLLY.  Please  don't  ask  me!  You'd  have  them  all  dragged 
off  to  a  dungeon  and  loaded  down  with  chains. 

MORTON.  No,  indeed,  Polly!  This  is  the  open  season  for  tyrants 
and  I  need  all  my  dungeons  and  chains  for  people  who  actually  try 
to  kill  me — as  you  have. 

POLLY.     [Crushed.]     I  know  I  deserve  it. 

MORTON.  But  you  are  not  sorry  now  you  didn't  do  it,  are 
you? 

POLLY.  Oh,  no,  no,  no!  It  makes  me  shudder  to  think  how 
near  it  I  came. 

MORTON.    Still,  you'd  be  willing  to  have  one  of  the  other  nine  do  it? 

POLLY.      That  would  be  terrible,  terrible! 

MORTON.    If  you  really  think  so,  tell  me  who  they  are! 

POLLY.  [Crosses  the  stage  in  agonised  indecision.]  Oh,  I  must 
either  be  false  to  them  or  to  you ! 

MORTON.    Yes!    Which  shall  it  be? 

POLLY.  [Snatching  a  paper  from  her  bosom  and  giving  it  to  him.] 
Their  names  are  there.  [She  sinks  back  into  her  chair  and  hides  her 
face  in  her  hands.] 

MORTON.  [Glancing  over  the  paper.]  Quite  a  lot  of  my  good 
friends  here,  I  see.  But  I'm  glad  you  are  the  only  woman  among 
them. 

POLLY.  [Faintly.]  You  will  let  me  see  my  mother  before  I 
am  taken  out  to  be  hanged? 

MORTON.  [With  deep  feeling.]  Polly,  Polly,  Polly,  you  poor 
little  innocent,  do  you  think  I  could  let  harm  come  to  one  hair  of 


14  AMERICAN   HISTORICAL  PLAYS 

your  dear  head?  You  have  done  me  a  very  great  service — saved  my  life, 
it  may  be — and  I  am  going  to  protect  you  to  the  uttermost.  Not  one 
word  of  what  you  have  told  me  shall  ever  be  known.  It  is  fine  to  be 
to  jail,  instead  of  lettin'  ye  go  home. 

a  dictator  when  fine  things  are  to  be  dictated.  [POLLY  falls  upon  her 
knees  and,  taking  his  hand,  tries  to  kiss  it.]  No,  you  mustn't 
do  that,  Polly.  It  isn't  good  for  you — or  me  either.  [He  gently  lifts 
her  to  her  feet.} 

POLLY.  [Dazed.]  I  feel  so  strange!  The  world  seems  all  made 
over — so  much  bigger  and  more  beautiful !  Is  that  President  Lincoln's 
picture  up  there  ? 

MORTON.    Yes,  Polly. 

POLLY.    Such  a  kind,  noble  face!    And  I  thought  him — oh! 

MORTON.     It  would  make  him  glad  to  hear  you  say  that. 

POLLY.     Nobody  could  do  wrong  with  him  watching. 

MORTON.     That's  why  I  like  to  have  him  there. 

POLLY.  [Suddenly.]  Oh,  I  don't  know  how  to  tell  you — I  am  so 
ashamed — you  will  think  me  a  wicked  girl ! 

MORTON.    Why,  Polly? 

POLLY.     Don't  send  me  away!     I  can't  live  if  you  do. 

MORTON.     But,  Polly 

POLLY.  Let  me  be  your  clerk,  your  messenger,  your  spy — 
anything  so  I  may  stay ! 

MORTON.  Impossible,  Polly !  My  secretary  uses  too  many  bad 
words  and  it  might  affect  his  health  if  he  were  shut  off  suddenly. 

POLLY.    Don't — don't  laugh  at  me!     My  heart  is  breaking. 

MORTON.  People  say  I  have  no  heart,  but  they  don't  know  how 
it  hurts  me  sometimes  to  say  no. 

POLLY.  Then  you  will  let  me  stay — only  just  to  be  near  you — 
to  see  you  sometimes,  even  if  you  never  speak  to  me?  I  will  be 
good,  not  make  any  trouble — go  where  you  send  me — endure  any 
hardship — face  any  danger — just  so  it  is  for  you! 

MORTON.  My  child,  you  don't  realize  how  the  world  would 
judge  you  and  condemn  me. 

POLLY.     I  don't  care. 

MORTON.  Your  father  was  my  friend,  and  I  once  had  two 
daughters  of  my  own. 

POLLY.     Let  me  be  your  daughter! 

MORTON.  If  you  were,  I'm  afraid  I  should  have  to  punish  you, 
Polly. 

POLLY.     Punish  me,  then — only  don't  send  me  away! 


POLLY  OF  POGUE'S  RUN  15 

MORTON.  You  will  think  of  this  differently  in  days  to  come. 
Sometime  you  will  tell  the  children  gathered  about  your  knee  the 
story  of  how  you  went  to  kill  the  tyrant — and  then  changed  your 
mind. 

POLLY.  Please,  please  don't  torture  me!  I  shall  never  change — I 
can  not.  Leave  me  at  least  that  hope ! 

MORTON.  [Curtly.]  You  must  go  now — at  once!  I  have  work 
to  do. 

POLLY.  [In  desperation.]  I,  too,  have  something  I  must  do. 
But  if  I  am  never  to  see  you  any  more,  you  will  not  refuse 
me  one  last  request? 

MORTON.     Anything  possible,  Polly.      What  is  it? 
POLLY.     [With  arms  outstretched.]     Kiss  me — just  once! 

MORTON.  [Tempted  to  do  so.]  God!  [Catching  himself.]  No, 
Polly!  [Pointing  to  Lincoln's  picture.]  You  see  he's  watching. 
[Polly  slowly  reseats  herself  and  hides  her  face,  ashamed.  Morton 
strides  to  entrance  and,  looking  off,  calls  sharply:]  Aunt  Abby! 

[Enter  quickly  AUNT  ABBY.] 

MORTON.  Aunt  Abby,  I  want  you  to  take  Polly  home.  She  has 
had  too  much  excitement  today,  but  she  is  going  to  be  very  sorry 
about  it  all. 

POLLY.    [Springing  to  her  feet.]    No,  I  shall  never  be  sorry! 

AUNT  ABBY.  Polly  Trowbridge,  I'm  bleeged  to  say  you're  behavin' 
like  a  plumb  fool.  Nobody'd  blame  Perry  Morton  if  he  sent  ye 

MORTON.  Never  mind  about  that !  But  tell  her  father  for  me 
that  I  am  sending  Polly  back  to  him  as  I  hope  in  like  case  he 
would  have  sent  one  of  my  daughters  back  to  me. 

AUNT  ABBY.  Laws  yes,  Perry!  I  'member  'em  both,  Mary 
Elizabeth  an'  Sarah  Lilias. 

MORTON.  Now,  Aunt  Abby,  you  can't  get  home  tonight,  so  I'm 
going  to  give  you  and  Polly  an  escort  to  the  hotel  where  you'll  be 
my  guests. 

AUNT  ABBY.  [Starts  for  exit.}  I'm  bleeged  to  ye,  Perry,  but 
I  can  find  my  way  around  without  havin'  that  pizen  Marcus  Aurelius 
Whips  feller  taggin'  'long. 

MORTON.  [Smiling.]  Always  the  same  old  Aunt  Abby  1  My  secre 
tary  will  take  you. 

AUNT  ABBY.  [Shaking  hands  in  parting.]  Well,  Perry,  it's  like 
old  times  to  see  ye  agin,  an'  if  Indiany  has  to  have  an  Ab'lish'n 
gov'nor,  I'm  mighty  glad  you're  it. 

MORTON.     [Extending  his  hand.]    Goodbye,  Polly! 


16  AMERICAN   HISTORICAL  PLAYS 

POLLY.  [In  oblivious  exaltation.]  Will  you  give  me  back  my 
pistol? 

MORTON.  Why,  yes,  of  course — I  had  forgotten  it!  [About  to  hand 
it  to  her,  he  looks  at  her  sharply,  then  slowly  withdraws  the  weapon.] 
After  all,  Polly,  I  think  I'll  keep  this — as  a  remembrance.  But  out 
on  my  little  place  at  Centerville  there's  the  best  riding  horse  in  all 
Wayne  County.  I'm  going  to  have  Black  Tom  sent  over  to  you  in 
exchange  for  this,  and  when  you  ride  him  I  want  you  to  be  glad 
he  once  belonged  to  the  man  on  whose  knee  you  sat  when  you  were 
a  very  little  girl. 

AUNT  ABBY.  [Gasping.]  Oh,  Polly  Trowbridge — an'  him  sired 
by  Hambletonian  Prince,  out  of  the  best  Mambrino  mare  in  Kentucky, 
an'  gentle  as  a  kitten !  Ain't  you  the  lucky  girl ! 

POLLY.     [Low  to  MORTON.]     You  will  not  even  let  me  die! 

[Low.]  No,  I  am  still  the  tyrant,  Polly.  [He  goes  to  his  desk, 
rings  his  bell  and  lays  down  POLLY'S  pistol.  SULGROVE  appears  at  the 
entrance.]  Berry,  these  ladies  are  my  guests.  Take  them  over  to 
the  Bates  House  and  see  them  to  their  train  in  the  morning.  [ SULGROVE 
salutes  and  exits.] 

AUNT  ABBY.  [Goes  to  the  door  and,  seeing  POLLY  standing  as  in  a 
daze,  calls  impatiently:]  Polly!  [She  then  goes  out.  POLLY  slowly 
approaches  the  door,  where  she  turns  and  looks  long  and  fixedly  at 
MORTON  who  has  plunged  into  work  on  his  papers  as  though  dismissing 
the  matter  as  a  closed  incident  Then,  softly  and  sadly,  she  drops  the 
curtains  behind  her.] 

CURTAIN 


The  Little  Theatre 

Some  Notes  and  Suggestions  for 
Those  Interested  in  the  Little 
Theatre  with  an  Exhaustive 
Bibliography  of  Short  Plays. 

By  FRANK  SHAY 


This  book,  originally  intended  as  a  bibliography  oi 
short  plays  grew  in  the  making.  Certain  explana 
tory  notes  grew  into  chapters.  Other  chapters  were 
added  to  give  the  work  completeness.  The  chap 
ters  are:  Your  Little  Theatre,  Financing  the  Little 
Theatre,  Subscriptions,  Play  Selection,  Producing, 
Cast  and  Scenery,  Costumes  and  Make-up. 


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